


The Art of Launching Rockets

by GlitterAndDoom



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterAndDoom/pseuds/GlitterAndDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Adam makes out with an inferior pretty boy at a party, a very jealous Brad and Tommy go off to have their own fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Launching Rockets

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** The Art of Launching Rockets  
>  **Rating:** NSFW  
>  **Pairing:** Brad "Cheeks" Bell/Tommy Joe Ratliff  
>  **Summary:** While Adam makes out with an inferior pretty boy at a party, a very jealous Brad and Tommy go off to have their own fun  
>  **Warnings:** Insert incredibly obvious warning for sex here  
>  **Author's Notes:** Written for the glam_kink prompt - _"Tommy/Brad: I dont really care how it happens I just want it to. Like maybe Adam's got a new boyttoy and Tommy's really jealous so Brad tries to cheer him up by making out with him at a party and that leads to sexytimes or maybe when Tommy/Brad first meet Tommy thinks Brad is really hot. I dont care, I just want it."_
> 
> At some point, there _will_ be a sequel.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these people, and this stuff is all lies.
> 
> _[Originally posted on](http://community.livejournal.com/glam_kink/664.html?thread=235416#t235416) glam_kink_

"Green doesn't look good on you, honey."

Tommy jumped. It took him longer than he would've liked to admit to get it, and when he did, he turned the death-glare he'd been giving Adam—and that ugly little shit he'd been making out with all night—on Cheeks. "What do you want?"

Cheeks gave him an innocent look, which he didn't believe for a second. "What? I can't come over just to make conversation?" Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, careful not to spill his beer, and he stared. Finally, Cheeks huffed and rolled his eyes. " _Fine_. I saw the way you kept looking like you were gonna bash their heads in any second with that bottle of yours, and I got _concerned_ , okay?"

Tommy still didn't believe him, but whatever. He tried to take a drink, but the bottle was empty. Fuck. "I'm not jealous," he said, and it sounded just as untrue in his head as it did out loud.

"Of course not. You're just acting." Cheeks looked at him closely, so closely Tommy almost felt invaded. " _Nobody_ is that good at acting. Except maybe a few Academy Award winners, but you—"

"What do you want?" Tommy repeated, through gritted teeth.

"Let's see." Cheeks tapped a finger on his chin. "A few billion dollars, a harem of pretty boys, freedom from idiots, world peace...but I'd settle for a damn good fuck right now, to be honest." He took a sip of the obnoxiously pink drink in his martini glass and he fluttered his lashes at Tommy. Tommy snorted, and Cheeks lowered his glass, suddenly looking serious. "I don't like it anymore than you do," he said, softly. Tommy didn't have to ask what. He could see the hurt in Brad's brown eyes—and he wasn't Cheeks anymore, he was Brad. Tommy bit his lip. "But it probably won't last." Brad waved a hand, and just like that, his persona armor was on again. "The boy'll turn out to be bad in bed, or he'll sell a bunch of naked pictures to the tabloids or something like that."

Tommy smirked. "Green doesn't look good on you, either."

Cheeks smirked. " _Everything_ looks _fabulous_ on me."

Tommy couldn't quite deny that. Brad Bell was rather stunning. Big, dark eyes, nice lips, good body, and shit, Tommy wasn't used to thinking of guys that way. Fucking Adam Lambert. The man was like a whirlwind or some shit, storming into everyone's lives like a glitter tornado and throwing everything they'd thought they'd known about themselves into a pile of rubble somewhere in Kansas. Somewhere along the lines, his mind had gone from tarting up rock and roll with Adam to wanting to be thrown against the nearest hard surface and _ravished_ by Adam.

Or to do the ravishing himself. He wasn't picky about these things. But Adam didn't seem to notice him like that offstage, dammit.

"You poor thing," Cheeks said, and his sympathetic pout was almost believable. Tommy half expected him to follow it with a bright, _"Now you know how I feel,"_ but instead, Cheeks put down his glass and untangled Tommy's bottle from his clenched fist, and set it aside as well. The Cheeks façade was gone again, and it was Brad said, "I can't decide if you look like someone kicked your puppy or if you _are_ the kicked puppy." Brad looked toward Adam and so did Tommy, and they both winced. Adam had his tongue down the ugly little pretty boy's throat again and looked like he was seconds away from coming in his pants. "Wanna make him crazy jealous?"

Tommy didn't even get the chance to say _"God, yes,"_ before Brad's mouth was on his, tasting of fruity liquor and heat and... _God_ , Brad was a good kisser. Tommy melted against him, clutching Brad's slim shoulders as his eyes fluttered shut and he gave himself over to the kiss, as their tongues slid against each other and Brad tangled his fingers in Tommy's hair and Tommy's cock went hard against Brad's thigh.

Brad pulled back, breathless and beautifully wrecked. "Oh. Not just Adam, then."

Tommy shrugged. "Apparently not," he said, and leaned in for another kiss.

They made out for what felt like hours, until Tommy's legs turned to water and all the blood in his body had gone south. "I think it's time to take this somewhere more private, don't you?" Liquor and lust and jealousy had turned Tommy brave, and he added. "If you think you can handle it."

"You _bitch_." Brad grinned, clearly amused, and Tommy gave him a wicked smirk. "I am _really_ starting to like you."

"Then let's get the fuck out of here." Tommy didn't give him time to argue. He grabbed Brad by the wrist and tugged, and Brad went willingly behind him. They spared a glance toward Adam, who was staring at them, eyes wide and hurt. His loss. Tommy shrugged it off and kept going, until they were outside, and Brad pulled him into another kiss.

Tommy had no idea whose car it was, but he slammed Brad against it anyway, his mouth never pulling away from their bruising, scorching kiss. His hands gripped Brad's hips until his fingers ached as the two of them writhed against each other, and oh _God_. He threw his head back and let out a moan, and Brad leaned down and nipped at his neck, over his throbbing pulse.

Fuck, he could come like this, from nothing more than the two of them grinding their hips together as Brad soothed the sting of his bite with his tongue and slid his slender hands down Tommy's waist to his ass, pulling them closer still, but that wasn't the plan, wasn't what they'd agreed on the minute they'd started making out. Somehow, Tommy managed to pull himself away to ask, "Do you have—"

"Front pocket." Somehow Tommy managed to free a condom and a packet of lube from those painted-on jeans that he couldn't quite manage to yank down all the way. Brad grinned. "I come prepared. And I swear to God, if you make a Boy Scouts joke—"

"Do I look like someone who would?" And fuck, he wasn't doing any better at getting his own loose jeans off, and Brad was being completely fucking _useless_ , leaning back against the car, smirking, hand sliding down his chest toward his cock as he looked up at Tommy with hooded eyes. "You _could_ help, you know."

"Mm, I _could_ , couldn't I?" Brad stroked his cock with a slow pace and a lazy smile, and fuck, _finally_ , Tommy's jeans hit the ground, and he really should have skipped the underwear tonight. "Never let it be said that Cheeks isn't a gentleman." And then his palm was on Tommy's cock, stroking him through his underwear, and oh _fuck_ , that was not what he had in mind, but there was no way he was gonna complain, except—

"If you don't stop now, you're never gonna get that damn good fuck you were talking about." Tommy couldn't hold back a whimper as the hand pulled away, and Brad smirked at him again. When Tommy could remember how to breathe and think, he kicked off his shoes and his jeans, and he flung his annoying boxers off to the side, not caring where they landed.

"Ooh, enthusiastic, are we?"

"Shut up." It suddenly struck him that he had no idea what he was doing. In theory, he knew, but in practice...so he decided to try to cover up his uncertainty by asking, "So, are we gonna do this here, or—"

" _No_ , on a bed with satin sheets, covered in rose petals." Brad rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you've never done this before. I thought your straight was bendy?"

"Does it look like this is for a woman?" Tommy gestured emphatically toward his crotch.

Brad stared at him closely for a moment, then shouted, "Oh my _God_ , you _are_ a gay sex virgin!" Tommy clapped a hand over the amused son-of-a-bitch's mouth. Brad licked his palm, and Tommy jerked his hand away and wiped it on Brad's shirt. "I thought for sure Adam had—"

"Shut. The fuck. Up. I've done stuff with guys before; I've just—"

"Never fucked anyone before?" From the way Brad said it, it sounded like he was implying that Tommy was a _complete_ virgin. Tommy _glared_.

"Never fucked a _guy_ before. I've fucked plenty of girls!"

"Of course you have." Brad shook his head and was already bending over to pull up his jeans. "I _really_ should've thought this plan through better than this."

Tommy seized Brad's arms, and he dragged him back up and pinned him in place. "I'm not done with you yet."

Brad gave Tommy a withering look. "Look, sweetie, I don't deal with virgins. I like guys who know how to give me the time of my life, and _you_ —"

"You think I can't figure this out?" Brad's expression said it all, and Tommy stared at him defiantly as he slicked up his fingers with lube. "It's _sex_ , not rocket science."

" _Exactly!_ So why don't you stop hesitating and _fuck_ me? Lube, stretch, lube, and—oh, fuck, _yes_." Tommy slipped his finger _in_ , and Brad's head fell back, hitting the window of the car. "That's it." Tommy worked his finger around carefully inside Brad, until Brad snapped, "I'm not a fucking _girl_." Tommy shoved a second finger in, and Brad let out a breathy moan and pushed down against his fingers. "More. _More!_ "

Tommy fucked Brad with his fingers, moving them in and out, teasing and stretching, watching as Brad's palms slid helplessly against the side of the car until he curled one around his cock, as Brad's mouth hung open and his eyes fluttered closed and his fingers stroked his dick. "Oh, yeah," Brad murmured, "just like that. _More_." Tommy crooked his fingers inside, trying to find that spot, and when he did, Brad jerked against him and moaned shamelessly. "Quit teasing me and fucking _fuck me_ , dammit!"

Tommy pulled his fingers out, and he slid on the condom, and was almost overwhelmed as he slipped the head of his cock into Brad. It took all the strength he had not to slam mercilessly into him, to hold back and let Brad adjust, but Brad wasn't interested in restraint. "I'm _not_ made of porcelain," Brad said, and he threw his legs around Tommy's waist, forcing Tommy to hold him, and impaled himself the rest of the way on Tommy's cock. "You promised me a good fuck—stop thinking so much and _fuck_ me."

He didn't need to be told again. It was so different from a woman, from the hard, unmistakeably male body wrapped around him to the tightness surrounding his cock, and _good_ , almost _better_. He let himself go, put his worries aside and surrendered to the heat, thrusting wildly as Brad groaned above him, as Brad's fingernails dug into his back, burning sharp, stinging trails against his skin. The world was all physical, all sweat and skin and pounding bass heartbeats and rasping, gasping breaths, all condensed to their bodies and the anonymous car and the night air.

Brad let out a too loud cry and his hands fell back against the car, and he was coming, spurting white hot between them, and the sight alone was enough to send Tommy to his knees, consumed by his own release.

Far too soon, Brad disentangled himself from Tommy's arms and examined the mess on his shirt. "Dammit, I _liked_ this shirt," Brad grumbled, then he shrugged and pulled it off. "Oh, well. It's not like it's the only awesome thing I own. Sometimes sacrifices must be made in the name of fornication."

Tommy felt like his brain couldn't understand English, and it took him longer than he would admit to translate what Brad had said. He stared dumbly at Brad for a while, until his mind cleared enough for him to realize that he was staring dumbly and wearing nothing but a shirt and a condom. He took care of his part of the mess, moving in what felt like slow motion, and tried to think of something to say besides _"Well?"_ or _"Should I stick to chicks?"_

"Aw. You look like you're expecting me to kill Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and all the sparkly little unicorns in the Universe all at once, sweetie." Brad put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. It wasn't _that_ bad. You got off, I got off, Adam got pissed off...mission accomplished."

"I—"

"Were you perfect in bed the first time you screwed a girl? No?" Tommy shook his head. "Then chill. You said it yourself—sex isn't rocket science. The world's not gonna end if it isn't perfect." Brad kissed him on the cheek. "You have potential. Give me a call sometime, and I will teach you the ways of gay sex and it'll be lots of fun!" Brad blew him another kiss as he sauntered back into the house, shirt in hand, and Tommy stood in place, feeling strangely adrift.

***

The next morning, Tommy woke up to the hangover from Hell and someone kicking the side of his foot. He peered out from under the table, squinting, and saw Adam towering over him, glaring and holding—oh, _hell_. "Lose something?" Adam asked, holding up a familiar pair of boxers.

"Fuck off," Tommy grumbled, and he rolled over on his side to go back to sleep. Adam huffed, and he threw the underwear on Tommy's chest and stomped away. Good. Let the bastard suffer for a while, too. Tommy would deal with the fallout later.

Or never.


End file.
